Light My Candle
by Viva La Vie Boheme 1991
Summary: I saw it there on the floor and one thought crossed my mind: ‘I could use it.’ That one thought scared me more than anything I’ve ever experienced. Roger’s thoughts during the song. Songfic, oneshot.


**Light My Candle**

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, that credit goes to the late Jonathon Larson.

Summary: _I saw it there on the floor and one thought crossed my mind: 'I could use it.' That one thought scared me more than anything I've ever experienced. _Roger's thoughts during the song. Song-fic, one-shot.

A knock on the door jars him from his morbid thoughts about April and his longing for glory. He places his guitar down and sighs, walking over to the door, wondering what Mark could have forgotten this time.

_What'd You Forget?  
__Got A Light?_

He stares for a moment as he realizes, that definitely isn't Mark. He recognizes her from somewhere, but can't place the face. As she walks in past him and he tries to figure this out, he can't help but notice she seems cold.

_I Know You  
You're  
You're Shivering_

It's Nothing  
They Turned Off My Heat  
And I'm Just A Little  
Weak On My Feet  
Would You Light My Candle?

She's so nonchalant about it, as if her heat being turned off is a regular occurrence. He places his jacket around her shoulders, thinking it might help guard her small frame against the cold of the winter. Her candle? Oh, of course, the power must be out in her apartment, too. As he stares at her in awe and wonderment, he can't help but take in how radiant her hair looks in the lighting.

_What Are You Staring At?_

Nothing  
Your Hair In The Moonlight  
You Look Familiar 

He's struck by the familiarity once more as he remembers he should light her candle. He strikes the match against the box and transfers the small flame to the candle. He shakes the match to blow it out, only to grab her arms a moment later, just in time, it seems, as she takes a step back to steady herself. He wonders if she will be okay.

_Can You Make It?_

Just Haven't Eaten Much Today  
At least the Room Stopped Spinning, Anyway  
What?

He watches her twirl around the room and can't help but see how beautiful her smile is. It reminds him of _her_…

_Nothing  
Your Smile Reminded Me Of-_

I Always Remind People Of  
Who Is She?

He almost winces as she asks about _her_, although there's no way that she could possibly know just what thinking about _her _does to him. She seems to get this all the time, he thinks. He decides to be blunt, and just tell her the truth.

_She Died  
Her Name Was April_

It's out Again  
Sorry About Your Friend  
Would You Light My Candle?

She tries not to let him see, but he knows she blew out the candle as she spun around once more. But he's attracted to her, had been since she walked in the room, and knows not to say something about a little indiscretion. He relights the candle.

_Well-_

_Yeah. Oww_

The wax drips down to her fingers, and he's instantly concerned, wondering if she's okay. He places his hand to take hold of hers so he can see the burn.

_Oh, The Wax  
It's_

Dripping! I Like It  
Between My 

She takes his hand and pulls him slightly closer, and a jolt of excitement runs through him. Her hand feels so small and perfect in his. But it's too soon after April, he's not ready to feel this again yet. He jerks away, much like a spooked horse.

_Fingers. I Figured...  
Oh, Well. Goodnight._

She hands him back his jacket and he watches her walk towards the door. He sees her blew it out again as she seems to search for something in her waistband. His gaze falls a little lower, but a moment later she knocks on the door with the unlit candle. Bemused, he poses a question.

_It Blew Out Again?_

_No  
I Think That I Dropped My Stash_

She's quite preoccupied looking for the stash somewhere on her body and around her on the floor, and he knows what it's like to need that hit, to do anything to get it. He decides to change the subject in an attempt to distract her from finding that stash.

_I Know I've Seen You Out And About  
When I Used To Go Out  
Your Candle's Out_

_I'm illin'  
I Had It When I Walked In The Door  
It Was Pure  
Is It On The Floor?_

She's stressed, he can see this clearly, and once again he recalls what it's like to need that hit. He worries even more as she goes to the floor to search for it. His eyes take a quick scan of the floor before they fall to an area they were looking at before.

_The floor?  
__They Say I Have The Best Ass  
Below 14TH Street  
Is It True?_

She notices him staring, apparently, but he's too distracted by the sight to realize until a moment later.

_What?_

You're Staring Again

He takes note of how flirtatiously she says the previous few statements. She's not shy about showing off her body, he can tell. But he's different; he's embarrassed. Well, more embarrassed at the fact that she noticed than at the fact that he was, indeed, looking at her ass, but still. He tries to cover up, fails miserably, and he knows it. He changes the subject once more as he goes to the floor to help her look, or rather, to find the stash before she does.

_On No  
I Mean You Do  
Have A Nice  
I Mean  
You Look Familiar_

Like Your Dead Girlfriend?

He winces inwardly but doesn't reveal his discomfort at her casual mention of April. But he knows he has seen her before, so he counters with one statement, and then persists with another.

_Only When You Smile  
But I'm Sure I've Seen You Somewhere Else _

_Do You Go To The Cat Scratch Club  
That's Where I Work  
I Dance_

He comes up onto just his knees, gazing at her for a moment as it hits him. The Cat Scratch Club, right! He remembers dragging Collins and Mark there once, before April… She was the girl they tied up, with the handcuffs! He knows now that he was right about his presumption that she is unafraid of showing off her body, partly because of her job, and partly by the way she just threw the statement out there.

_Yes!  
They Used To Tie You Up_

_It's A Living_

She does seem bothered slightly by his recollection of her being tied up. Maybe she doesn't completely enjoy her job, as he had thought. He attempts to lighten the mood with a small joke.

_I Didn't Recognize You __Without The Handcuffs_

_We Could Light The Candle  
Oh, Won't You Light The Candle?_

She's still looking around, even as she asks the first time. His expression turns to one of worry. She looks so young, she shouldn't be getting into that kind of stuff. Although, admittedly, depending on what her age was, he might have begun to get involved in it around the same time. He strikes the match once more and lights the candle as she repeats her request, this time focusing on him, as if she's seeing him again for the first time. As he shakes the match he decides to take this chance to reason with her.

_Why Don't You Forget That Stuff?  
You Look Like You're Sixteen_

_I'm Nineteen  
But I'm Old For My Age  
I'm Just Born To Be Bad_

They both get up as she has the indignant reply about her age for him. He watches as she bumps his hip then strides away and turns. He knows he used to think like that, that he knew more than he should for his age and such. He now knows that, at the time, he hardly knew anything at all. He remembers the shivers and sweats from when he hadn't had a hit in a while as well. He will try to use this experience to his advantage.

_I Once Was Born To Be Bad  
I Used To Shiver Like That_

_I Have No Heat I Told You_

_I Used To Sweat_

_I Got A Cold_

He doesn't believe her, couldn't, as she continues her search with the light of the candle. He know now it was foolish of him to light it for her, since it will now be that much easier for her to find it and shoot up.

_Uh Huh  
I Used To Be A Junkie_

_But Now And Then I Like To  
__  
__Uh Huh_

_Feel Good_

He knows what it's like to want to feel good like that, but he keeps disapproving of her choice. Since he'd been clean, he felt that way about everyone who made that wrong choice. He glances down and sees the small plastic bag of white, and leans down to grab it. As he does so he foolishly lets a comment slip out. He knows he needs to be strong right now, so that he does not succumb once more to the heroin's call.

_Oh! Here It Um_

What's That?

He quickly thinks up a lie, even though he knows it's a far stretch and she'll never believe it. Whether he is lying merely to keep her away from the drug, because he feels the urge to protect her, or to keep it for himself, perhaps to use, he isn't sure. He knows that regardless, seeing the little plastic bag scares him.

_Candy Bar Wrapper_

_We Could Light The Candle  
Oh, what'd You Do With My Candle?_

He's aware that she knows. She tries to grab it from his back pocket where he had placed it, and so he uses his thumb and forefinger to stub out the candle. She knows he has caused the light to die, too, and he falls back to sit on the couch as she playfully accuses him, so she can't get behind him to her stash. He makes another try to distract her and creates another lie.

_That Was My Last Match_

_Our Eyes'll Adjust  
Thank God for the Moon!_

She's undeterred by his lie about the matches, and merely throws the candle away as if it was unimportant all along once she's sitting on the arm of the couch, practically on top of him. He's struck by a thought, something he read, maybe in the Village Voice?

_Maybe It's Not The Moon At All  
I Hear Spike Lee's Shooting Down The Street_

_Bah Humbug ... Bah Humbug_

She seems to think he's a spoilsport, which maybe he is. But if that's what it takes so that she doesn't use tonight, then so be it. She's taken his hand in hers, right after he'd pointed out the window. He gulps, immediately uncomfortable. It's been so long since a woman has touched him in any way, unless you count Maureen hugging him on her rare visits to the Loft, not to mention that he is currently hiding her stash. He makes a comment, trying to tell her of this discomfort, and also how her hand is probably cold from her use of heroin. She takes it as the winter cold as she examines his hand.

_Cold Hands_

_Yours Too  
Big.  
Like My Father's  
Do You Wanna Dance?_

She pulls him up, perhaps as a ploy to make her stash accessible. But he's already begun to forget about that, in his previous discomfort and slight confusion. She laughs at him and has a joke in response as she makes him spin her.

_With You?_

_No  
With My Father_

Without a moment's hesitation he tells her his name, knowing somehow that it's his last chance before she leaves him tonight, either with her stash or to go get another gram to go get high.

_I'm Roger_

He watches as she walks around him towards his back.

_They Call Me  
They Call Me  
Mimi_

He watches in defeat as she dangles the plastic bag in front of his face, and a strong yearning for a hit overtakes him, his veins beginning to itch. It's gone as she lets out a small laugh and saunters out of the Loft, closing the door.

Once she's gone, he contemplates several things. His first thought is wondering whether she had come in in the first place just to try to get him to use with her, that maybe she had already known that he had been a junkie. He quickly dismisses this, as the heroin was only brought up after she realized she dropped it.

The second is whether this nineteen-year-old girl would wind up on the same path he himself had been on, where he is now. He wonders whether he could prevent this, or if their roads crossed once more that he might pull her father onto that path.

Lastly, he thinks that maybe his life is looking up, that April has sent him an angel to guide him along the right path until he died. And that angel came in the form of a beautiful nineteen-year-old junkie, a dancer from the Cat Scratch Club, a girl who asked him to light her candle. A girl named Mimi.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"Mark?"

It is later that night, and Mark comes into Roger's room to check on him after getting back from looking for Collins. He finds his roommate curled up on his bed, back to the door. This position and how Roger's voice sounded is very familiar to Mark, a reminder of Roger's withdrawal days, where Roger would sound scared, like a small child who fears the dark and finds himself caught in it as the sun goes down.

"What's up Rog?" Mark asks gently as he makes his way to the bed, sitting down on the edge, to assure Roger that he is there.

"I… I was… t-tempted while you were out… Sh-she just came in and she dropped it… and I… I was scared Mark, so scared!" Roger bites his lip as Mark tries to comprehend just what Roger is saying. He thinks Roger has probably just had a bad dream, most likely with April in it, accounting for the "she." Roger had these dreams often during withdrawal, and although Mark knows he's definitely clean, he also knows the dreams may still plague him.

"It's okay, Rog, it's okay. She's not here to tempt you anymore, you did well."

Mark doesn't fully understand, but Roger thinks he does. It is with this thought that Roger allows himself to take a deep breath before speaking in a shaky voice.

"I saw it there on the floor… and one thought crossed my mind…" Roger pauses and gulps, then whispers in an even lower tone than he had just been speaking in.

"I thought… 'I could use it.' That one thought scared me more than anything I've ever experienced."

"But you didn't," Mark prompts, and Roger shakes his head.

"I didn't." Roger turns over to face Mark, and Mark can see the tears that have only just begun to dry on Roger's face.

Mark envelopes Roger in a brotherly hug as his friend sits up, and murmurs, "I'm proud of you."

They sit there in silence for a long while, and for a moment, all is right in the world, and they are back to the time before HIV, before drugs, before April, when it was just the two of them against the world. And though they both know this moment won't last, can't last, they are content to just sit there in their silence, the surrounding world lost to them.


End file.
